Stolen Moments
by I.J.Girl
Summary: RenePaige Several one-shots, probably from a bunch of different AUs that I come up with, bear with me folks. Just tender moments with Beck and Paige, adding up his guilt at the lies he builds up and her doubts about her allegiance, with Tron glaring down his nose at the seductive threat in his and Beck's lives. RatedT for slight suggestiveness...and Kissing.:P XD(covr pic not mine)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi guys! ^^ Okay, so, let's me explain this. I was poking around the archive, and I came up with so _few _Beck/Paige fanfics I felt cheated. :/ And then the ones that I could find always had a bit of a, um, OOC-ness to them. NOT to be dissing those fanfics, I thoroughly enjoyed each one, but there's always something about an in-character story that is just...satisfying. Not to say, either, that I think I got them in character, but...I don't know. I just thought we needed more in this fandom, I guess? Please nobody get offended, it's just my thoughts rambling here, I'm exhausted and I just pumped out this 2,756 word thing in less than two hours without any planning before hand. XP My mind's not filtering things right. SO, anyway, this AU(this one, singular one-shot) is that instead of simply stepping away and respecting Paige's wish to break-up, Beck persisted(he knows how to persist without bugging her out of her mind :P), and she caved(but, come on, who wouldn't cave to this guy? XD) and they've been in a relationship for some time now. Like, three to four months, give or take. *shrugs* Maybe five. :P This is set around a week or two after The Stranger(where Able dies) and in between that episode and any of the others that happened. GOOD NIGHT, ENJOY, REVIEW. *konks out* Zzzzzzzzz...**

**Edit: Someone noted that it was actually 'No Bounds' instead of 'The Stranger'. XD I don't know, I was half unconscious when I posted this, and I've only watched the series three times, all of them within the time span of a couple of days, and my brain was melted from exhaustion. XD So thank you reviewer, for helping me out there! I can never remember the names of the episodes...**

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Beck's feet splashed against the puddles on the ground, formed by the rain cascading down around him, as he sprinted the last few feet to the elevator located at the back of Able's Garage, leading up to the dorms that the mechanics slept in, baton in hand. Stepping into the dry platform, he stood rigidly for a few moments before heaving a heavy sigh, letting his tired shoulders slump.

There were only two things he disliked about being the Renegade.

One was slowly losing his friends because of his lack of time to spend with them. As much as he enjoyed being with Zed and Mara, there simply wasn't time. And after Able's death...conversations were simply too tense, too much sidestepping around delicate topics for there to be a comfortable camaraderie between the three.

The second was being called a _murderer._

The elevator smoothly glided upwards, and he took the moment of peace and quiet to lean against the glass, facing the city under curfew with somber, tired eyes. After Able's death, everyone was looking to their neighbor for comfort and reassurances, and his absences would have been deeply felt; because of that, he moved training until after curfew, taking off right under the Occupation's collective noses to the Outlands. A soft, wry smile involuntarily found it's way onto his face as he remembered Tron's quiet grumbling; more than likely the older security program was missing his sleep cycles.

A yawn involuntarily forced it's way out of his mouth, and he noted that he was missing his regular sleep cycles as well. Truth be told, he was exhausted, but, being the young program he was, if he could get in one uninterrupted sleep cycle, he'd be fine and ready to go.

His thoughts, slightly erratic due to his coming off of an adrenaline high, instigated by the tension filled run back home from the Outlands, jumped to an entirely different topic.

Mara and Paige had no idea how they tore at his heart every time the words slipped out of their mouths.

_He's a _murderer, _Beck! How can you possibly still support him?_

Mara he could understand. She was angry, and she was hurting, and she wanted someone to blame, something to take the focus off of the pain she felt. He felt the same, and it was tempting to become bitter and angry towards Cyrus, but he restrained from it, seeing what it was doing to Mara's normally bright and cheery optimism.

That said, he _totally_ blamed both himself and Cyrus for the whole fiasco. And possibly Tron. His tired mind wandered across that line of thought, wondering how the program had been able to become as good as and possibly even exceed Tron's skills...He wondered if he'd ever be able to be as good as Tron and then shut down that line of thought, yawning and shaking himself from his mental ramblings.

Paige, however...From what little he was able to get out of her, she said she had encountered the 'Renegade' briefly that millicycle and immediately noticed the difference(What the difference was, she never said), and as hard as he tried to push that along with every other bit of evidence that the Renegade was _not _a murderer, she insisted that he was.

Which hurt almost more than losing Able and Bohdi.

The elevator stopped, and he turned away from the sleeping city, stepping out into the white hallway, sighing. Tron had tried, and tried really hard, to explain to him that if Paige could not have the Renegade, if she couldn't learn to view him as something good, or at the very least, form a neutral opinion over him, then she could also not have Beck. As much as Beck would try to separate _Tron _from himself, he was at his core, _Tron. _He drilled this into his head as he carefully tweaked Beck's disk, getting it ready for the eventual copying over of the role of System Monitor into Beck's system, and again as they went at the simulator together and again as he came and again as he left. It was exhausting just to hear his mentor mention his relationship with the commander and just how vulnerable it left him- how vulnerable it left _all _of them_._

"I just...Beck, you're..." Tron had heaved a heavy sigh as Beck finally snapped and told him to mind his own business, before rapidly apologizing and then reasserting that he had heard _enough_, "This girl has the potential to hurt you more than you could ever possibly imagine. Just...be careful."

Well. He was beginning to imagine. No matter that the fire in her eyes when she smirked at him sent his energy roaring through his circuits or that she understood what it felt like to be responsible for the safety and freedom of their fellow programs or that she always seemed to know just how to hit him over the head and make him see a problem in a completely different way or how her competitive and rebellious streak was reserved from all world except for him or that that one look that she kept only for him made him feel more powerful and exuberant than any power upgrade ever could; those things would only make it so much worse if she ever found out.

He already knew from experience how much it hurt to disagree with her, and he _briefly_ wondered why he had pushed for their relationship to happen even after she tried to break up with him.

_Briefly_. Memories of slowly prodding laughter and smiles out of the stoic soldier and slowly opening up about Bodhi's death and giving her abridged stories about Lux and Culter and her gentle understanding and advice about grief and both of them working through different complicated issues together and setting up a hard-light hologram of Pavel for her to deface and butcher with insulting code written all over the irritating(creepy) program's face to help her mood and the gentle kisses shared between shifts and missions on both sides, the more passionate ones snatched in elevators or in alleys and street corners, her circuits turned white to blend in with civilians and her heels gone, making her a good four inches shorter than him(he noticed that these kisses happened often after Paige had a one-on-one fight with the Renegade and filed that away for pondering upon later) sprung up to remind him why.

A genuine smile graced his face for a moment as he strode past the dorm that Zed and Mara shared, hearing quiet murmurs from the room, finally reaching the dorm he and Bohdi used to share. Placing his hand on the pad, the dorm recognized his ID and the door hummed open quietly, not interrupting the soft conversation in the neighboring room. Stepping inside, he sighed in relief, more than ready to collapse into his bed and blissfully lose consciousness for a while. The light flickered on, revealing a moderately sized space, with a small counter space to his left, filled with little trinkets and half finished projects, most of them Bodhi's, and beyond that, a small bathroom that was shared with Mara and Zed's dorm. His bed was the one pulled to the left hand corner of the room, turned so that the side was flat against the window, to as to get as far away from the bathroom door as possible, while Bodhi's bed was the one directly in front of the door, feet pointed straight at whatever intruder decided this dorm was worth robbing...Or at least that's where Bodhi's bed was _supposed _to be. At the sight of the empty spot, Beck tensed, coiling into a defensive position without second thought, ready to met whatever threat could possibly be in his small dorm, eyes taking in the room again, alert and wiped clean of his former weariness. He blinked when he found that Bodhi's bed had actually migrated over to his bed, pushed together side by side, made up as if they were one large bed instead of the two one-program beds that they were. Resting his eyes on the lump on the bed, he relaxed at the familiar green and white circuitry, though still slightly puzzled.

Striding over, he found that Paige had made herself more than at home, sprawled out underneath the double covers taken from both beds, eyes gently shut and mouth slightly open, her hair messy and slowly unraveling from her tight bun. As a confused grin found it's way onto his face, he took in her beauty, reveling in the unprecedented view of a completely relaxed Paige.

"Well..." he looked at the space she was occupying on the bed and wondered how on the Grid he was going to fit in the little space she had left him with her long legs sprawling across half of Bodhi's bed and her upper half curled up on his, "I guess this means I'm not getting my sleep cycle this millicycle..."

Not that he minded too much. The smile that had sprouted on his face once he knew who she was hadn't faltered for a moment, and he knelt down next to the bed, resting his arms on the bed and propping up his square chin on his hands, watching her slow, even breaths. After a moment, she stirred, and he tensed, before remembering that this was _his _dorm, technically, so she couldn't exactly fault him for being curious as to why she was sleeping here. It wasn't like either of them had decided to take the next step, bonding in that manner and moving in together.

A few strands of her hair, dark and soft, slid into her mouth and he bit back a chuckle, reaching out gently to brush back the strands, his finger softly grazing her skin-

No sooner than his hand made contact, he found himself slamming on to the floor, his arm twisted backwards and his wrist twisted into an extremely painful and _complicated _hold (made worse by the still healing scars Cyrus left behind), having to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out, choking on a grunt as Paige's knee made contact with his back.

"Ow, _ow,_" he tried to keep his voice down, knowing that most of his coworkers would _not appreciate_ being awakened at this time of the sleep cycle. Paige yawned, and sleepily rubbed the last bits of grogginess from her eyes, relaxed since her attacker was practically frozen in place.

"Paige?!"

Beck's quiet, yet frantic voice jolted her to full awareness, and she gasped as she looked down at her victim, jumping off and letting go quickly.

"Beck!" her voice was a little loud and he quickly clapped his uninjured hand over her mouth with an apologetic look, letting go after she leveled him with a glare.

They sat on the floor in silence for a few moments, Beck trying to ignore the dull, stabbing pain in his wrists and Paige still waking up.

"I'm so-"

"I shouldn't-"

Speaking up at the same time, Paige snorted and Beck grinned standing up, as she scooted back into bed, crossing her arms over her chest with a dead serious face.

"You were out after curfew."

Beck tensed, and batted the unasked question away, "You _occupied _my bed."

Her lips tensed, and he knew she was fighting an amused smile.

"Don't change the subject. Technically, I'm under oath to arrest you," the amusement fled her expression quickly and he sighed, gently massaging his wrist as he shifted his weight to his right foot.

"Technically, since you're not wearing Occupation colors, you're currently a civilian."

"Touche," Paige sat up, eying his wrist, "Are you okay? Let me see."

He almost automatically reached over, used to her fussing over his wounds, but held back, remembering the highly visible scars seared through his coding, shaking his head, "It's okay, I'm fine."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "You're lying to me. Again. Sit here, now."

Fighting a grin, he obeyed, settling himself on the enlarged bed and was pleasantly surprised when she threw one of her legs over his lap, the other one sliding behind his back as she scooted closely to him. This was a big improvement. It had taken many, many weeks to get her to open up a little about allowing him to even wrap his arm around her shoulders, and much longer while he waited until she was ready to allow him all those little touches he wanted to give her, a hand on her shoulder or elbow or a gentle brush against her skin, a brief hug, things he was used to from his friendship with Mara and Zed and Bodhi, and even after she relaxed and allowed slightly more romantic touches, the only contact she initiated was when she saw he was hurt(or, in some cases, when Mara or Zed had told her he had gotten nicked or something equally trivial). For her to pull herself against his body was something rare and he couldn't say he didn't enjoy it immensely.

She propped her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his chest, and he automatically wrapped an arm around her waist to help keep her upright.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, mechanic," oh, well, he certainly was in trouble, if she was calling him _mechanic, _"Lies are one of the things I hate the most."

Hmm, interesting. He was definitely screwed five ways to the Void if-...when she found out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to make you feel bad," he ignored the sickened feeling in his stomach as he shoveled out another lie, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against hers.

"So I did hurt you."

"It doesn't hurt now," which was the truth. Paige sighed, one of the circuits on her leg accidentally coming flush against a circuit on his stomach, and a flash of warmth and sparking electricity flooded his senses.

"Where have you been, Beck? If it's something illeg-"

He slammed his lips against hers sloppily, and she made as if to bite him in retaliation, but simply grunted and sucked in his bottom lip to lavish it with her tongue. He felt guilty for using her attraction for him against her, but he could excuse it. Circuit on circuit contact in the right context was nearly blinding in the intensity of the energy, and he knew she couldn't have _not _felt what she had just done to him.

Once a tiny moan worked it's way out of her throat, he pulled away, panting, pupils dilated. She looked slightly dazed and a touch disappointed.

"So," she only _nearly _slurred, "What were we talking about?"

Beck's guilt only grew and he knew Tron was wrong in worrying about him being the one getting hurt. Beck was going to tear Paige to shreds when she found out. A lump formed in his throat and he shook his head, unable to articulate at the moment.

"Hmm," she rested her head against his shoulder for a moment, before looking up, scrutinizing his face, "You look awful."

"Wow. Thanks."

She ignored his sarcasm, taking his face in her hands gently, and he marveled at how the same hands that so brutally attacked and mercilessly bruised and battered him could also be the same hands that gently tended his wounds and tenderly stroked his skin.

Her thumbs softly circled underneath his eyes, smoothing out the dark hollows there, her index fingers running across his eyebrows(one thing about himself that he had never paid attention to before, but she seemed to find fascinating) and her lips pursed as she ran diagnostics.

"How much sleep have you been getting?"

He shrugged, and she glared at him, "I don't know. I haven't really paid attention."

She smacked his head from behind gently, "Idiot. Why didn't you tell me you were tired? I could have waited til morning."

"Right...What _are_ you doing here, Paige?"

Paige's expression hardly changed, but he could tell she felt sheepish about whatever it was, "Well, it's been over a week since I've seen you, so...I came here, thinking I could snatch you away on a random date to anywhere, but you weren't here and curfew came-"

"You were going to take me out after curfew?" he fought a proud grin, the thought of a rule-breaking Paige was extremely attractive.

She bit the inside of her cheek, "Pretty dumb, huh? Anyway, there were all these sentries running around, and..."

She paused, shrugging, "I just thought it would make more sense for me to wait here so that once you got back from whatever-"

"Delivery that ran late. Guy wasn't satisfied, we argued until curfew, bada-bing, bada-boom, here we are," the lie slipped out before he could even think it through, and he immediately committed the story to memory, to make sure he didn't tell her the same one twice and to make sure he didn't get his stories mixed up when explaining it to someone else. The guilt grew more painful.

"-we could at least talk before I switched back to Clu's colors and headed home. But you took so long, your friend, Mara, told me to make myself at home up here."

"Is my bed too small for your tastes?" he gestured to the joined beds. Paige grinned mischievously.

"No," she locked eyes with him, pressing the circuit on her leg against his circuits again, albeit intentionally this time. A flush of blue covered his face as his eyes widened.

"Ah," he chuckled awkwardly, "I see."

Her smile fell, and she pulled away, "I mean, not tonight, obviously, you need to sleep...I can go home now, and we can just forget-"

"Paige," he whispered, grasping her hand and pulling her towards him again, kissing her much more efficiently this time, pushing her down onto the bed as she willingly succumbed to him. Climbing over her, straddling her hips before pulling away from her mouth and peppering her face with gentle kisses, he continued, "It's okay, I like the idea. But you're right. Not tonight, and maybe...maybe we should discuss it first."

She grinned, a wicked gleam in her eye, "I'm more of a _do-it-now-think-it-later _kind of program."

"And that is why I love you," he settled into the bed next to her, and she hitched a leg over his hips, "Stay tonight. I'm too tired for anything, but I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go either."

"Good."

"Good."

He grinned as his eyes slid shut of their own accord, his sleep cycle taking over before he could tease her about always having to have the last word. The last thing he was conscious of was of her hand gently lacing through his hair, and a loving kiss placed on his nose.

All other worries aside...He could definitely get used to this.


	2. Chapter 2

**You know, I was kinda disappointed, no one seemed to get the joke in the first chapter that I spent hours figuring out. :/ "You ****_occupied _****my bed."? Now you get it? Yeah? Okay, good. Someone had to, or else I'd have gone insane. XD Anyway, this chapter belongs to the FIRST AU, not the Second one, just to clarify. This comes before that chapter, when the two were in the beginnings of their relationship, and, uh, I'm not saying anymore because my exhaustion has me mentally impaired, see, and I'll spoil it for you. :P Just read on, dear readers. ^^ **

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Storming. That's what they were doing, because the tense, stiff, loud steps they took, clashing against the smooth, metallic sidewalk as they made their way back to his dorm (Paige had to drop him off this time because they were mere moments away from curfew) were much too angry and unforgiving to be 'walking'. Their normal playful bickering about opposing political views had quickly escalated to a full-fledged fight, that though quiet and subdued, was filled with cutting, subtle bitter comments, the both of them rippling under the surface with tension and the potential for an explosive climax.

The fight was due to the frustrating stalemate they had reached earlier that work-cycle, the Renegade escaping after destroying only half of the Occupation's valuable new stock of gleaming new weapons, shimmering with deadly potential. Of course, Tron's reprimand had been a bit harsher than the usual lecture about a lesson to be learned from the failure, since by now, Beck should have _known _better. And naturally, Tron blamed it all on his illicit relationship with Paige.

Which, from an outside perspective, most would agree. _Beck _agreed. Which was why his words had more bite, more venom, cut deeper today. After lashing out at his mentor, he had come and internally stewed as Paige sat next to him, cutting the Renegade to pieces with her words. No matter what he did, he was always the bad guy, despite the fact that aforementioned weapons were going to be able to cause massive, almost virus-like destruction wherever they were used. Beck had considered calling off their date beforehand, but he had had an idealistic hope that maybe seeing Paige would help his mood a little, and if he had been reading her expressions right, she had initially seemed just as relieved to see him as he was to see her...

Only to have their evening thrown apart by the bitterness on both parties sides, capped by an ultimatum from Tron that was currently preying on Beck's mind.

He was torn, thrown apart by what he wanted and by what he was supposed to do. Had he been a normal program, he would have immediately chosen his purpose, his calling, the thing he was made for, above all.

But he wasn't normal.

He was _supposed_ to be the next TRON, an enormous responsibility that he wasn't programed for, a responsibility he shouldn't and didn't take lightly; but his programming, his _purpose_ was to be a mechanic. He was _programed_ to fix, to repair. Not to protect, to defend. He was programmed to sweep in after the damage was done and make it alright again, not to _keep_ people from damaging and yet there he was, trying to take on a virtual shield and protect _everyone_. Defend everyone. Perhaps it wasn't _too_ strange to think he might also take on a relationship that conflicted wildly with both his programming and his calling.

She was the exact opposite of what he would have thought he would want in a partner in almost every way. She was strong, she was defensive, she brushed him off as much as possible. She reached out to him, then shut him out, leaving him frustrated and upset and too overwhelmed by too many different things pulling on his conscious mind at once. The Garage needed him to be there to work, Mara wanted her friend back, Zed indirectly hated him for various reasons, Tron was cracking down harder on him, pushing, testing, pulling on him, making sure he would never accidentally slip, never make a mistake, never say something out of turn, never betray what they were doing. Beck kept his secret from Zed and Mara to protect _them,_ but he kept it from Paige to protect himself and Tron.

And yet despite all that, it hurt unbearably to think of letting her go. Perhaps it was selfish of him, but around Paige, at least when politics weren't the topic of discussion, he could relax. He could let go and be himself, which Zed and Mara couldn't understand anymore. Beck had changed from the program they and Bodhi had known to a program willing to die for his cause, and Paige could understand, she could accept this part of him. She had seen it in action on the train to Bismuth, and he didn't have to hide that from her, nor the part of him that wanted to take on that shield(he just had to be careful how much of that he allowed her to focus on, lest she start to connect the dots). He trusted her more than anyone else, perhaps because they shared many of the same goals, the same let downs and down in their core...had the same purpose.

She, from what she had told him, was originally a medic. Made to help, to fix, to heal. Love, or a similar emotion, flowed naturally from their coding into the ones around them, and it wasn't hard to believe that, if Paige had seen enough suffering, she would have taken up the shield and sword as well, going into the Army to protect, to defend the innocent from harm; even if she had turned a blind eye to the worst of Clu's evils, she truly, honestly believed that what she was doing was going to bring peace. To bring freedom.

Which was all that he wanted, but unlike her, he could see how dark and twisted and restricting the Occupation was. It bound a program's hands to their sides and their feet to the ground, operating only on basic programming while their companions died right and left for meaningless 'crimes', and then told them to ignore it as the programs in either the army or the gangs tightened iron grips on freedom and resources. The fact that Paige couldn't see that made him seriously consider giving in to Tron's ultimatum.

Meanwhile, Paige was hurt, and angry. After being thoroughly grilled back and forth by General Tesler, which was shameful and hurt more than she had realized it would, she had had to stand and file her report with Pavel standing at her shoulder, compiling his own biased report while making snide, subtle comments about her incompetence and the fact that her mingling with the 'riff-raff', the common programs, was affecting her ability to serve, hitting sensitive points in her shielding, before finally trying to turn to her only source of guilty comfort, and find that he _also_ was being subtly bitter and basically _accusing _her and everything she stood for, for all that was wrong on the Grid. Well, enough!

She didn't stand around, gritting her teeth and tolerating that insufferable virus spawn called Pavel during her entire work-cycle, failing to satisfy Tesler's demands and expectations to come to Beck, who was supposed to be removed from it all (he had _**promised**_) and be treated like waste energy to be burnt away. She deserved more than that, she need-she was _programed_ for more than that. She wasn't going to sit around and take Beck's biting comments in stride, she was a soldier, a commander for Grid's sake! She was going to fight back, and if his voice went higher by any amount, she was going to _shout_ back.

But unfortunately for her slightly less confrontational side, Beck kept his voice even, controlled. Flynn, why did she have to end up with a program that knew how to handle her? He _knew _somehow, despite the fact that they hadn't fought before, despite that she was a soldier, he knew that she didn't _like_ to be the one to step anything up a level; she wanted to let things go sometimes, but in a fight, in her job, she had to become ruthless and cruel, to the point of not feeling sorrow or guilt or insecurity, and now, with him, she was reverting back to her personality from before the ISOs. Confident, but a little timid, a little insecure, willing to let another lead.

A fury exploded within her when she realized this, that she was waiting for _him _to take initiative and to be the one to break the tension and scream at her. That _would not do. _What was wrong with her, reverting to the submissive ways from before? She was Commander Paige, and she would not let herself be lead by anyone but her commanding officer.

And the program walking beside her back to his dorm, with his tension filled square jaw, furrowed eyebrows and barred, unreachable brown eyes, was _not_ her commanding officer. A part of her wondered where the gentle, slightly awkward and yet confident program she had met had gone to; the one the romantic part of Paige simply wanted to find a way to get back.

Angry Paige, insulted Paige and soldier Paige locked romantic Paige on a separate circuit than the rest of them, much to her disappointment.

Gritting her teeth as he made yet another bitter comment about Clu as the elevator closed around them, the Garage deserted by it's occupants as they settled in for a sleep-cycle above their workplace, she finally burst apart.

"Who do you think you _are?!_ Who are _YOU_ to say that the_ ONLY_ program doing anything to _protect_ and _lead _us is EVIL?!" Beck jumped, surprise flickering across his expression as they stood, facing each other, anger and bitterness and hurt crackling in the air around them as her circuits flared, lighting her face from below, "Are you saying that _I _am evil?! _Clu_ has saved us from self-destruction, he's saved us from the ISOs, he has-"

"Don't tell me you buy into _that _lie as well!" he spat back, abandoning all attempts at subtly and motioning for her to quiet down as the elevator doors slid open to his floor, and she complied, but only because she didn't want the whole Grid to know she had been fighting with him...Much less that wide eyed, touchy-feely blue haired friend of his.

Mara was alright on her own, but Paige felt an almost violent jealousy whenever Beck and Mara were together, sharing a dear, gentle relationship filled with history and old stories and tender nuances. She knew it was illogical, since Mara had, in a strange way, both threatened her and given Paige and Beck her blessing, seeming to be okay with her, and that if she was to be jealous, she could be just as jealous about Beck's relationship with his other friend...Zip? No, Led? No, Zed, yes. But that program was obviously vying for Mara's attention, and hardly payed Beck any more attention than the normal amount for a friendship forged over mutual acquaintances.

She stormed down the hallway, cursing that her heels were so loud, knowing that Beck was probably worried that she'd be waking up all his co-workers and feeling enraged that he'd be caring about them and not her...Why couldn't he _see_? And now what? Was he _defending_ the _ISOs_?

As_ that_ dawned on her, she barely realized she had made it to his room, and spun around furiously, not caring if the door had slid shut yet, any care about blue-eyed Mara hearing chucked out the window as if it had burned her, blinded by the overwhelming, white hot anger that seared through her heart, her mind, that made her want to punch in Beck's face till cubes flew or slash the one of the beds in the room in half with her disk and then proceed to destroy everything he held dear, "_THEY KILLED EVERYONE I KNEW! _Don't you _DARE_ defend them!"

The words flew out of her mouth, burning in their wake, and then the anger suddenly dissipated, replaced by sorrow that ripped through her entire being, electric and destructive, leaving her bare and vulnerable before him, despite every wall, despite every effort. He had frozen still, face blank, emotionless as he stared at her, impassive and...so, so stupid. Couldn't he see...? She didn't know what she wanted him to see.

_Just understand me, _she ordered him inwardly. She trusted him, she had opened herself to him despite how hard and painful it was to tear down the walls or how secretly terrified she was of him betraying her, and there he stood as she blurted out the most painful thing in her heart, staring at her like a newly rezzed program, like she was something strange and something to be studied and learned.

"I hate you," she seethed, as tears began to brim the edges of her eyes, hating the unshed tears and hating the fact that she was so emotionally compromised by this mechanic, anger growing in her chest once more, "I hate you for defending those _monsters_, I hate you for being such an idiot, I hate you for making me so, so..."

She stopped, stiffening in place, closing her eyes tightly and fighting the emotions back into their proper place, failing as Beck watched her fall apart, astonished and shocked and scared. Afraid of what it meant. Afraid of how very deep they had both jumped into this thing, this catastrophic, fatally doomed thing that they shared.

"_They killed everyone...-"_

The ISOs. Staring at her, he tried to make sense of this. Tron defended the ISOs, so it would make sense that the ISOs were okay (Tron had never divulged much about the ISOs, and he felt uncomfortable pushing him, so Beck didn't know much more than what the archives held on them). It made sense that Clu was lying about that too, especially since the hatred of ISOs was the main force behind his rise to control.

Stunned, he listened to her unravel, watched her break as she began to seethe again how much she hated him, and felt everything else fade. He watched as the pieces flew away from her, shattering and exploding and spinning wildly as tears _tried_ to fight their way out of her clenched eyes, and fear clawed it's way out of its comfortable confines in her chest.

Guilt crashed into him as he realized that he hated this. He hated seeing her fall apart, hated having been the one to tear her apart and he realized that she was much more broken than he had realized. She was much more hurt, much more scarred. It shattered something inside of him, to see how he had once again misjudged her, and every part of him that had been bitter and angry and wondering why he was still doing this with her softened and blew away, because he could see who it was he was fighting for.

He could see the program underneath all of the soldier training and glares and biting comments, the program that was broken and alone and strong and capable, yearning for things that neither of them knew. The program he had only caught glimpses of, and yet was willing to ally her in their own secret quest for belonging in spite of all he shouldered. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, kiss her until all the pieces flew back together and all the broken parts seeped back together and became something new, something whole, something that wouldn't hurt and would make her happy again.

But Beck knew he couldn't kiss her. She didn't need romantic gestures or a lover. She needed a friend, to stand beside her, and he wanted to be that friend.

.

Beck wanted to be the one to help piece her back together, even as he realized he might not be the one she needed. The thought that he couldn't help her made him feel useless and selfish, and he pressed his open hands against his thighs, keeping his fingers from clenching shut. If he couldn't be her friend, if he couldn't be the one to help make her feel safe or to step in after the damage was done and fix it, make it alright again somehow, then maybe...

He wanted his disk, his recoder, something that would help him help her, something that would make it good again.

His hands clenched despite his efforts and he felt an instinctual urge to run. This wasn't something he could fix, he knew that; Tron's training had established protocols for situations he couldn't fix, but this wasn't a situation that he could avoid by turning tail and running like the System Administrator himself was after him.

Fixing light-cycles and military tanks and light-jets was so much easier than _this_, this emotional mess that they both were. There was only so much he knew about her, only so much he knew about anything. This was new to him, all these feelings he had, the way he had to consider Paige over himself now and yet couldn't afford to, the way he wanted to keep her close, the way he wanted to be able to tell her everything and burning up inside because he couldn't.

This was pain and joy and fire and water, higher and brighter than any energy drink and darker and deeper than the Void below the Grid. For a brief moment he wondered if the Users ever felt this way, or if they had it all worked out. Some method, some plan...

_He_ needed a plan, some method of making up for his blunder...Although he knew he could argue that he didn't know, he didn't know what had happened to her, didn't know about the ISOs, didn't know he would hurt her with those words, he had to admit, it had been his own loss of self-control that had set in motion the path to here, his own scathing comments that had paved the road to this moment.

_(AN: Somewhere, somehow, Kevin Flynn is proud of this Zen-like revelation. ^.^)_

"Paige..." he reached out, trying to bridge the cold distance between them, hands brushing against her shoulders, only to receive an accidental backhand to the face as she threw his hands off with a snarl. With a quiet gasp, she froze, and he pushed on, used to getting hit in the face by her (though that was as the _Renegade, _and he normally had a _helmet _on...) and choose to ignore it this once.

She hated him. She hated the fact that she hated hurting him, and that the sight of her hand smacking the side of his face froze her in guilt. No one was supposed to be able to affect her that way. No one should affect her that way.

His expression had changed, morphing into one of guilt and confusion, and she thought it looked stupid. It just made her want to bring her hand against him again, albeit on purpose this time around, and smack it off of his stupid, sensitive face. She tried to draw on that anger, to build her walls, to close him off and clear the film of tears threatening to slip past her eyelids, but it was nearly impossible when he was trying to pull her towards him, trying to envelop her in his arms. She didn't want that.

And yet, she didn't fight him as strongly as she should have. Soon, he had wrapped his arms around her tense, impassive shoulders, a gentle and loose gesture. Frozen against him, seething in anger as she felt her space violated and her emotions strewn across the floor, she found herself unable to respond, unable to pull away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, gentle and warm and compassionate as he gently rubbed his thumbs over her shoulders, ignoring how stiff and frigid she was in his grasp. Paige was quiet, eyes scrunched shut and face twisted into a trembling grimace. She was a mess. She was a disaster. Tesler would be disgusted with her. She didn't want to open her eyes again, and see the pity in Beck's eyes. She didn't want his pity, or his sympathy, she didn't need it. She didn't want it.

She suddenly realized that she was swaying slightly, rocking them back and forth in tiny movements, tied together by his arms, subconsciously relenting to him. Stopping the movement and standing as still as only a soldier could, she still refused to open her eyes, pulling away just the slightest from his hold. He pulled away completely in response, taking a step back, one hand releasing her shoulder to reach up and brush away a stray strand of hair.

She wanted to punch him, despite knowing she would never actually do that. She had never given him the right, the permission to touch her in that way. She barely allowed such things when she was in a good mood, and that he thought he could touch her like that_ now_ enraged her. And she was even more enraged that she was afraid to open her mouth to speak, afraid she would burst into tears, so fragile her control was.

"Paige," if he said he was sorry again, so help her Flynn, she was going to punch him. She didn't need his pity, "I should have been more considerate. You needed a friend today, and I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry."

Her eyes flew open, because she hadn't been expecting that. _I'm sorry, _**I**_ was wrong_, was about as far away from _I'm sorry they're all dead and you're all alone and are now throwing a pity party in front of me_ as one could get. His solemn expression, laced with some other indescribable emotion, directed at her, and not the words she had blurted out, shook her and she was left confused and scared, some of her anger melting from the confusion and seeping into the floor under their feet.

"What?" dumbfound, she stared at him.

Since joining Tesler's ranks, she had mourned. Quietly, alone, and the originally all-consuming sorrow had dulled to soft pang deep within her code. She could speak of the event calmly, rationally, with only hints of anger towards the ISOs in her voice and expression, and almost every high-ranking soldier she had come across would commend her ability to surpass hardships and flourish despite them, despite not even being programed for such things. She had gotten over the pain, and lived past it. It surprised and angered her that she was breaking like this, in front of the mechanic no less.

Granted, the stupid, brave, self-sacrificing mechanic that had emotionally compromised her despite her best efforts. He was not afraid of death, or of taking risks, or even of her, he had proved. Maybe part of her had been drawn to a program that despite not fearing her, wholeheartedly respected her; in all her time as a soldier not one other program had ever balanced their lack of fear for her with a deep, personal respect; walking confidently before her without acting as if she was a ticking-time bomb or about to derezz him on sight, while talking and _actively _disagreeing with her without making her feel like dirt and stupidity embodied.

He was the only program she knew that didn't make her feel like a subordinate or a superior. They were _equals,_, and _that _was why she had slowly begun to concede him the privilege to lead in certain areas despite her fear trying to belittle him (_mechanic, mechanic_) to combat her constantly rising opinion of him.

And _that _was why she was enraged at his sudden turn of face, going from that even ground she had gradually gotten accustomed to to verbally lashing out with spikes and daggers at everything she stood for, everything she was, because it was a betrayal of all that they had slowly worked to bridge together. It was what she had been afraid of, afraid of being hurt, afraid of more pain.

Beck's expression flickered again, and his hand slipped off her shoulder, awkwardly falling back into place at his side, before jerkily making it's way to the back of his neck, his thumb worrying at a stress spot as his eyes left her face, the awkward young program sinking back into his frame, and a tiny part of her ached for the contact again, another part of her relieved to be released. She felt her mask slipping back on, her tears fought back into place, her heart hidden and guarded again.

"I just...I'm sorry," he saw the mask slip back into place in her expression, and it hurt, "I promised you something and I broke that promise."

She frowned, still not trusting her voice. She remembered having made him promise he would be removed from her work; she had been afraid of seeing judgment in his eyes, afraid of the bitterness she had encountered today...

His body moved towards her the slightest bit, before shifting backwards, a new determination on his face, "I...Paige, I think that we...I...sort of moved too fast. I was too focused on being _with_ you that I forgot...I forgot to be your friend."

Paige's jaw clenched, her face twisting from the blank mask into one of anger, shoving past him as she shook her head, "...You know, you're right. We did move too fast. We shouldn't have been moving at all."

He shifted, looking over his shoulder as she opened the door, "Paige..."

She paused, looking over her shoulder with anger in her expression.

"If you ever need a friend, my door is always open."

"I don't need a friend, mechanic," she answered, slipping through the door and out of his dorm, leaving him to sigh and stare out his window at the sleeping city of Argon, an emotional exhaustion settling into his core as he collapsed onto his bed and thought of Tron.

As sleep settled over him like a heavy blanket, he smiled humorlessly, knowing that about a thousand apologies were in order; the honor Tron was settling on his shoulders was not one to take lightly, and he knew that.

He knew that.

…...

The minute he walked into Tron's hideout the next day, he was greeted by a deactivated blur of white thrown at his face, only barely managing to catch it and avoid a broken nose. Looking down at the white disk half in his hands, remembering it ripped off of his disk by Tron's angry hands and being told not to come back unless he was ready for the disk and the suit, he glanced up at the security program working at the data screen, sorting through high priority alerts and minor alerts, as if Beck hadn't even entered the room.

The mechanic sighed, his broad shoulders slumping as he made his way up the stairs, the disk held in front of him like a damaged part, "Tron. Listen, about yesterday-"

Tron shook his head, bending down gracefully and shoving a box of assorted parts into Beck's arms, gesturing to the work station behind him, "Sit."

Beck blinked, but conceded, surprised at both the lack of a lecture and the strange project given to him. Normally Tron immediately put him into the training room or brought up studies in strategy for them to pour over together or lectured him on this or that.

Tron pressed a few more blinking dots on the screen, then closed the window, leaving only the distant view of Argon before them, sitting down across from Beck and pulling out a handful of objects from the box, setting them on the workstation between them, "It's nice to see you too, Beck."

Beck snorted, a smile finding it's way to his face, sarcasm lacing his voice as Tron's hands quickly danced around the parts, "Like you normally bother with pleasantries. Hello, Tron, good cycle so far?"

"Hmm, I could do without the sarcasm and silence, but otherwise it's been fine," Tron raised an eyebrow, his lips pulled into the closest they would ever get to a smile for a while. Cutting to the chase, he held up a half finished device, "We're making suffusion bombs today."

"Oh," Beck pulled a small case off his leg, half the size of of a baton, and unrolled it, revealing a set of small tools used to fix the smaller components of a light-cycle or light-jet, and dumping out the rest of the contents of the box, setting to work at following Tron's quiet instructions, working like this for almost an hour.

"Tron?"

"Make sure you don't cross the white circuit over the red dial, you could kill us both and reveal our location."

"Tron."

"Hmm?"

Beck sighed, pinning the white circuit away from the red dial and looking up from their work, "I, uh, just wanted to apologize for snapping at you."

"You call that snapping?" Tron looked up, amused, "Makes me wonder what full fledged blow out looks like."

Beck scoffed, crossing his arm, "Hey, I'm trying here. I'm just saying...you're probably right about everything."

"But you're still going to see her."

"...Would it make you happy to know we actually had our first fight last night? I'm not even sure if I'll see her again," a raised eyebrow made him throw his head back, "As Beck, Tron, you know what I mean."

"What did you do?" Tron tapped Beck's hand with his tool to indicate that they were still working on the suffusion bombs.

"Why do you assume _I_ did something wrong? I'm not that awful," he quickly began to mirror Tron's hands, putting yet another layer of code over the circuits.

Tron chuckled, "No, but you left here in quite the mood."

"Well...Granted, I messed up, but you practically disowned me," a tiny screw yet flying from under the sudden pressure he put on it and he muttered something before bending down and searching for it on the floor, "And I accidentally hit a raw nerve with her."

"Looking for this?" jerking back up and hitting his head on the way, Beck grimaced as Tron pulled the little screw out of his graying hair and flicked it towards him.

"She said that the ISOs killed everyone she knew."

Tron frowned, "I doubt that. One or two ISOs might have snapped after the Purge, but they had the utmost respect for life...Not unlike you, Beck."

Beck shrugged, though there was relief in that he hadn't been defending murderers, "Well, I don't know much about it."

The Security Program simply hummed, continuing his work on the bomb for a few moments, carefully watching Beck's skilled hands as they picked up on his knowledge.

"I once was young like you, Beck," the comfortable silence broke, and Beck glanced up at his mentor with curiosity, noticing Tron's eyes wandering up to his hair for a brief moment, "Had crazy _hair_ like yours too once."

"Hey!"

Tron waved the young program's offended expression away, though his eyes sparkled with mischief that had once been much more evident in his personality, "My point, Beck, is that I know what it's like to have eyes on a pretty young program. Much more on a strong, confident one that you feel can shoulder the same burden you hold if you ever need her to."

He reached out, a sympathetic hand clasping over his apprentice's shoulder, and Beck's warm brown eyes met his with a question.

"I know, Beck, I know. I probably would have reacted just as you did to having her barred from me by Al- by anyone else, but back then I had a purpose and that would have been my primary objective. It's harder for you, because this isn't your original purpose. If you were still a mechanic, you would have no problem going after this Commander – if she noticed you, that is."

"Hey!"

"Face it, kid, the only reason she noticed you was because of my training," a spark of that mischief flitted across the senior program's face briefly as Beck mock pouted before his expression settled into something more serious, "Beck. You're playing with fire, as the saying goes. My girl was on my side from the start, yours wants to kill you. I know what it is that you're looking for in her, but you better make damn sure that she is the one you want it with, and if she is...Flynn help us all."

…...

Paige hid a smirk as General Tesler stared at the burning rubble of what used to be their shining armory, a tremor of anger crawling up his spine, as he briskly turned to Pavel, who straightened into a perfect military stance, fear sparking across his face.

"You incompetent _idiot! _You said you could handle the Renegade if he was dumb enough to come back in here, now _look at our CORRUPTION BLASTERS! _Paige at least saved half of them, you null unit!"

Well, at least it wasn't her fault this time. Her smirk fell as her temporary amusement grated on and on, her expression falling as the deep sadness that had filled her work-cycle settled over her once more, refusing to let her shoulders slump from the weight and ruin her military stance. Her sleep had been sporadic and restless, and no matter how tightly she pulled the mask on her face, she ached with grief that had been pulled out of it's comfortable place deep in her memory, compounded by the bad feeling in her mouth left by the way she had turned down Beck's apology.

She didn't get those every day, much less from any male, and to have a guy apologize to her was both boost in her self-esteem and extremely humbling; despite the fact that the program had just goaded them into their first real fight, her impression of him improved ever so slightly.

He was humble. He wasn't below apologizing and admitting he was wrong, and she would be lying if she said it didn't attract her even more to him.

But what had really been preying on her mind was what he had said.

_I forgot to be your friend._

Friend? Memories of Rox and Dex fought for acknowledgment, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of a romantic relationship in that way before. First friends, then lovers.

Friend? Hadn't that been one of the first things she had noticed on that first date, how easy it was to sink into a conversation with him, as if they were old friends just reunited after cycles and cycles of separation? She wasn't sure she could be his friend; it felt as though she had forgotten how.

"Paige!" Tesler barked her name, drawing her out of her reverie, and she snapped to attention.

"Yes General."

"I think you've earned yourself the day off," Tesler smirked, as Pavel slumped in the corner, "Go on and do...uh, whatever it is that you do on your free time. Pavel can take care of this mess on his own."

Pavel muttered something about common programs and Paige blinked in surprise. Despite knowing it was only to spite Pavel, she felt immensely grateful.

"Are you sure, General?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Thank you, General," she smirked at Pavel just to make his life a little bit more miserable and made her retreat, finding her way to her room and collapsing on her bed, letting the resurfaced grief take her under, silent tears slipping unbidden from her eyes in the silent and lonely room. So many times she had grieved this way, alone, braving through it, figuring it out.

Her eyes wandered to the shelf were her monome and the only remaining picture of her friends (her family) sat, untouched since the incident on the island. She was used to being alone, surrounded by the cold air of the military base and sniveling soldiers and prideful guards. She growled, anger surfacing again because she felt weak, because of Beck, because in the brief time they spent together he had gotten her used to warmth and humility and gentility, and that was what she craved right now.

She knew she should have cut off their relationship from the start; she was endangering herself and she was endangering him by growing weak like this.

The memory of Quorra surfaced and her anger increased triple, and a part of her wondered what it would be like to try and share this pain with him. He already knew that the ISOs had killed everyone, but...

The burden of the pain and the grief pressed against her chest, and against her better judgment, she rose to her feet, running her hand over the monome, drawing comfort and strength from the memories it held.

Would it be so bad, to have a friend?

…...

The sound of someone pounding on his door jolted Beck, as he tried to wash out the smell of smoke from his hair.

"_Beck?"_

Mara, he noted, patting his hair dry and failing since he didn't really have any water absorbent materials in his barely furnished dorm, "Just a moment!"

Settling for shaking his head (some strange, insistent memory about shaking water out of hair pressed against his conscious memory, but before he could figure it out, it was gone) he wiped his forehead and waved his hand over the door, finding Mara...and Paige right outside his door. Mara seemed both perplexed and amused, and smiled at him while taking a step back, allowing Paige to have his attention.

Surprise and relief flooded him, mixed with a twinge of apprehension as he stepped out of his door, "Hi."

"Hi," she answered, her face unreadable, her hair hiding most of her face, and for a few moments, both were silent, taking in each other's expressions. Just before the silence became awkward, Beck cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

"Do you want a friend?" he asked gently, and she felt like beaming at him, because he knew exactly how to word the question, knew exactly how to approach her and not scare her off.

She held out her hand, and he hesitated, his hand pausing just before enveloping hers, then answering him in a quiet voice, "Yes. I do."

* * *

**That whole hair comment from Tron...Uh, well, if you look up Tron on Google, eventually in the pictures you find him with this insanely spiky hairdo, which I thought looked a lot like Beck's hair, so that's where that came from. I'm not super proud of this chapter, but I like it. Sort of an amatuoour exploration into what builds up relationships(since I've never been in one, but am carefully planning for the day some poor fellow decides he likes me, since I've got like...you know, a biblical plan for it and all. Sort of.) I don't know, it's way too late, I've been up too long and my spelling is for birds, so bye everyone, before I make a complete fool of myself. *bursts out laughing* You know, I was thinking maybe, since I'm so immature like this, I could have one of the characters of the show(or the movies, depending) come on to my AN and read the "Next On" portion. Hehe, that would be fun. ^^**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so fair warning, there's very little RenePaige in this. :P Very very little. I wrote this last night, because I was suddenly inspired and well...it's a mess, to be honest. So bear with me. This is also sort of my headcanon, more or less, as to how Beck can be a 'young program' as he claims in 'Beck's Beginning'.**

"Clu's taken over."

She takes a moment. Her processors go into over drive and she sits down, hand over her tensing, pulsing core for a beat, just long enough to take a breath, cool her circuits and reorganize her thoughts.

"Tron?"

"I'm sorry. He...he's gone."

She had been thinking about standing, but that left her with no option but to remain where she was.

"What about Anon?"

"I'm still waiting to see if he can get out of the city," A heavy hand, warm and rippling with energy in a way that no program's hand would be, settles on her shoulder. She had been waiting for him, waiting for him to get to the portal, growing more and more anxious the longer he and Tron took to get there, doing what little she could to hold it open a little longer, and a little longer, until it was too late and it closed with the User still on the Grid. She had known something was wrong, but what could a simulations program do, except follow her directives.

"Yori...I'm afraid that if you don't have a use, Clu may come after you too," Kevin's voice is soft and low, a gravitas to it that was normally missing, hidden either by his amusement or his driven obsession, "I can't...I can't lose you too."

"I'm a simulations program," she says, matter-of-factly, because that's what she knows, "I always have a use."

Kevin chuckles, and a sadness tinges the sound, "I was actually thinking of one of them. If this is drawn out – which it won't, I won't let it. I'll get the Grid back from Clu before you know it. But if it is...we're going to lose programs. Lots of them."

Yori thinks of Tron and winces, wondering how she will cope. The answer comes to her simply – she will, because she has to.

"We're going to need soldiers and medics and mechanics, but I can't make all of them constantly."

"We have soldiers and medics and mechanics."

"We're going to need _more_."

Yori presses her lips together and crosses her arms.

"Remember the medical center the ISOs are building? I'll ask them if I can have it, repurpose it," Kevin crosses his arms and his eyes glaze over as he thinks of code and logistics, "The healing chambers can be re-assigned to make new programs, once I input the defaults for the different kinds. The Grid is going to have a field day when I give her all the new code."

His hands were shaking as he spoke, and Yori closes her eyes as it hits her full force. Tron was gone. Her companion, her bundled program. Her core tenses up and shudders and she folds her arms over herself and bends forward. The soft wail that escapes her is but a fraction of what is happening within her, as emotions like loss and fear and loneliness awake within her and threaten to break her.

She remembers a time before Kevin Flynn, when emotions were dull echoes of what she experienced now, and things were much less confusing and strange. Kevin Flynn had brought things like love and loss into her world, and there were cycles when she wished he hadn't. Oh, users, how she wishes he hadn't. She didn't want to feel like the users did, or cry like they did. She is a program, such things are not meant for her.

But there was no turning back now, and cry she does, falling to her knees as her strength leaves her and she feels jittery, as if her voxels are trembling and threatening to come apart.

"Tron," she whispers, and it's a plea, it's a call, it's a prayer to the Users (except there's one standing next to her and she can't see herself praying to him, not anymore, not since she knows him).

Flynn doesn't seem to know what to do with himself, and his hand is on her shoulder again, but she knows that he would rather be figuring out this new idea of his, this new way of fighting Clu (and protecting her in the process) than dealing with the emotions he brought into the Grid, gave to the programs that lived there. Emotions like fear and hatred that – while they had existed – used to be so muted that they may as well have not existed.

He is crying now, forehead bent to rest on her shoulder, tears full of energy falling on her circuits and sending little bursts of energy through them. If she knows love because of him, he knows love because of Tron. It's a strange cyclical thought that she had had before, and it's not as if Kevin Flynn hasn't loved Users (his 'mother' and his 'father', Lora and Alan, Jordan and Sam) but there's a special love for Tron and a special love for Yori and an even more special love for the ISOs, and that's where she learned love from, and it's because Kevin Flynn loved Tron that she learned it. So, if she knows love because of Kevin Flynn, Kevin Flynn knows love because of Tron. It makes sense and does not, and that's another thing she's learned from Flynn, that things that don't make sense can be true, or at the very least, okay.

But Tron being gone doesn't make sense, and while it's true, it is not okay.

Flynn is never able to ask the ISOs for permission to repurpose their medical center. Clu acted quickly, taking full advantage of Flynn's tactical retreat to enact the Purge. It takes eight cycles for the Purge to be over, and both she and Flynn fought bitterly to the end. Quorra, they find in the Outlands, after Abraxas and Clu have done their damage, and Flynn saves the last ISO from the Abraxas virus.

"I'm proud of them," he says quietly as he works on Quorra's code, and Yori looks up at him, head tilted, needing clarification. He delivers.

"The programs, I mean. You know, Tron told you, that there was a lot of unrest and rioting in Tron City. ISOs and programs just can't mix, it seems. But out there," he looks out at the rubble of the beautiful ISO city, and the area of Tron City that is just a crater in the Grid's surface, "They _fought. _For the ISOs, because they knew something was wrong, something was up. And they weren't even programmed to fight. You aren't programmed to fight."

Yori frowns and looks down at the staff in her hands, taking in the disk cuts on her body, the little signs of battle that had worn her down, "I...I don't need to be. I need to fight, so I can."

And while a User wouldn't have found that odd, for a program who had lived with the reality that she could not do anything she was not programmed for, this is a realization that bordered on blasphemy – a claim that she could do what a User did. All the little things from her programming in Encom, the deep respect for Users, the intimacy of the relationship between User and Program, shudder at her words, but as she looks up at Kevin Flynn, the User of this Grid, all she can see is a certain kind of pride and melancholy.

A Simulations Program that could fight. It was almost as amusing as an Aerodynamics Program learning to fight.

"I'm proud," he repeated, and his hands were trembling as he worked on the complex code that not even he could fully comprehend. He had been right – the Grid is losing more programs than Flynn can make, and whenever he steps foot on the Grid, whenever he tries to bring back Tron or make more programs like Anon, Clu is there. Either in person, or as the hacker he had been modeled after, infiltrating any new programs Flynn made and turning them to his purposes before Flynn can finish coding. He's too fast, too connected to the Grid, and he's pushing Flynn out whenever the User reaches out, taking his place faster than Flynn can fight back.

It's all stuff that Yori was never made for, not even made to understand, but the more time goes by, she finds she _can_ understand, and she _can_ do. And it is as scary as it is exhilarating.

_Tron would have been proud, _she thinks, and crosses her arms over herself.

The medical center is the only thing left standing in Arjia. The white of the walls and the codestreams is tainted with smoke and black, and if Yori looks too closely, she'll see the blues, whites and greens of the programs and ISOs that have derezzed there.

The center is a grand thing. The walls slope upwards with all the elegance and grace of Encom's Grid, Jordan's loving hand evident in the architecture, as well as the gentle guiding touches of the ISOs. The halls are open and spacious, and the rooms are enclosed to afford privacy, but open to reduce the feeling of entrapment. The equipment is pristine, the ceiling untouched by the burning outside.

It would have been beautiful, with ISOs and programs alike coming here not only to heal their wounds but to upgrade themselves and become better programs.

Kevin Flynn is done with Quorra and all they can do is wait, so he begins work on repurposing the center. Arjia has been so badly damaged that it doesn't seem to raise any flags, and Flynn worked on equipment instead of connecting to the Grid. Yori helps, running simulations on his code, making sure it will all work when they connect it to the Grid. The healing chambers and Siren recharging chambers are aligned and reprogrammed.

"Yori..." he holds out his hand for her disk, and she flinches internally, knowing that she is about to take on a responsibility she wasn't programmed for. But she doesn't hesitate, and gives him her disk, and he puts in the code so quickly that she knows that he's been practicing it and perfecting it during sleepless sleep-cycles. It's done faster than she would like, and then she's syncing with the new information, learning about what he's done, what her new job is.

Yori sighs. She's not ready, not yet, for him to leave her, but that is what will happen once they power up the new rezzing chambers. Clu will recognize Flynn's code and come running, but when it happens, Yori will forever be a part of the Grid, so integral that to destroy her, to destroy this place, it would set a series of events in place that would destroy the Grid. It's a gamble on Kevin Flynn's part, but he's a User, and he's nothing if not a gambler.

She won't be alone, though. When she and the center connect to the Grid, a handful of Sirens will be called to help her, and a handful of mechanics and engineers to keep the place running long after Flynn is gone.

Flynn sits down and curls in on himself. His hands are shaking again as he watches Quorra sleep fitfully, her systems rebooting and healing.

Yori sits next to him. Her small, slim hand slips into his large, over sized hand and squeezes. The shaking stills, but doesn't stop completely and the warmth of his long fingers envelops her cold fingers.

"Guess you'll be a mother soon," he says, and she knows he is thinking of Sam.

"A mother?" she asks. He's told her before, and she knows, but she asks to keep his mind off their quickly approaching separation. And maybe her own mind as well.

"It's a User thing. A mother is a User that gives birth to a child User, who then grows up and becomes an independent User. Just raising a person, emotionally, can make you a mother, in a less technical way," Flynn is quiet for a moment, and she relishes the feeling of his thumb brushing over her knuckles. It makes her miss Tron in ways that disquiet her.

"And you're about to 'raise' these young programs, so...Mother, kind of," he says, and squeezes her hand in such a way that she knows he's thinking of Tron too.

Mother, she thinks to herself, remembering the warm affection that always enters Flynn's expression when he speaks of his own mother. Will the new programs think of her kindly? Will they even remember her once they are integrated into their new lives? Once they are 'independent programs'?

"Don't leave yet," she says quietly, and it's more of a command than a plea, and she decides to frag blasphemy and User respect. Flynn is her friend. She will miss him, and his absence will sting almost as much as Tron's.

"I'll fight," he promises, "But I have to protect her. She's...she's all that's left."

"I know. Stay."

It takes a cycle or two for Yori to settle into her new role. As soon as the rezzing chambers are activated, Clu is there, and a thousand repurposed Guards are pouring through the halls. Clu almost derezzes her on sight, but something stops him, and she holds up her disk in surrender. Everything within her is screaming in rebellion to the action, but Clu takes a look at her disk and pales before a look of fury crosses his face that is then gently worked under his facade of unflappability.

He nods at her once, "I guess we will be seeing each other often."

And then is gone. Though a dozen Guards remain to make sure nothing fishy is happening. Yori wants to smash all of them, but reminds herself that they were once programs like her friends back in Tron City and forces herself to be calm.

Ten Sirens arrive, looking confused and unsettled by the destruction all around the former healing center, and Yori takes them in with as unfazed a demeanor as she could muster. It doesn't take long to instruct them on how to help her, and since she is the only one allowed to tamper with the code, the only one allowed to choose whether a mechanic or an engineer is born, they don't have to do much. Not yet.

By the time the second cycle after Clu's angry appearance, the new programs are ready to emerge. It seems rather slow to Yori, but without a User to provide the energy and carefully shape each program, the chambers take a long time to rezz them. So it takes about three work-cycles from when Yori inputs the command to the moment when the new programs can emerge.

The Sirens are there, buzzing quietly, and even the orange-circuited Guards are watching curiously as Yori presses her hand against the rezzing chamber and the door hisses as it slides open. The white light inside cascades out, enshrouding the naked program inside as condensation from the process falls out like a curtain.

"Welcome to the Grid, program," she says, as the teal blue eyes open to meet her own. The female designated program blinks and opens her mouth.

"Th-thank you."

The new programs are smaller than normal programs, and Yori worries at first, as the new medics file out of the pods and the Sirens dress and equip them with disks. But they will grow, and assume the size of a normal program within a cycle or two. The Guards look awed and some ask Yori who will train the new medics. When she responds that they already know all they need to know, a few still insist that they have to be trained and there's talk of transports and to Yori's surprise, the Guards bring her a map of the Grid, and they all talk about the best medical centers and Yori reluctantly concedes that she cannot keep the new programs here with her.

The teal eyed medic begins to follow Yori, questions falling out of her mouth faster than Yori can answer.

"Why am I here?" "Aren't most programs made by a User?" "What is my function?" "What is your function?" "If I can drink energy, can I also bathe in it?"

Yori ends up naming her a User name, Sarah, because her curiosity is User-like in its intensity and unwavering constancy. Sarah never leaves with the other new programs on the transports and instead remains at the rezzing center with Yori and cares for Yori when Yori forgets to.

"My code is different than yours," Sarah notes one cycle, as Yori is preparing for a batch of architects, inspired by the rebuilding going on in the destroyed sectors of the Grid. Perhaps Arjia could be reborn, awaiting the ISOs or whatever the Grid decided to create next. Though Yori knows that it's a hopeless dream, she hopes that the Grid will birth the ISOs again, or something similar.

"Well," Yori says, a little frustrated that she has to go over this kind of thing with the new programs so much, "You are a medic program, and I am a simulations program. Our code is supposed to be different."

"No, I know that," Sarah answers with exasperation, "but a dormant part of my code is actually somewhat like the rezzing chambers. I think...I think I am made so that I can create new programs."

And that is such an odd thing that Yori has to see it for herself, and after a lot of careful comparison, she is astonished that Sarah is right. A node in her code is identical to the code for the interior of a rezzing chamber, though much smaller in size. On a hunch, Yori investigates the code of every new program that rezzes up at the center. Every program has the same node. Along with another which created incomplete copies of the new programs' code within the chamber. Yori can't make too much sense of it all, and eventually gives up trying to.

"User forsaken Flynn," she mutters, hopes that it doesn't lead to a function that she cannot understand and moves on.

One work-cycle, the music programs she rezzed up and guided through their first steps come back to visit her, and in their eyes is that same softness that Kevin Flynn had when speaking of his mother. They tell her of their jobs, of how their lives have progressed in the cities they live in, and Yori can't help but smile at them with pride. She knows the name of every program born in her center, and occasionally, in the quiet of her mind during late sleep-cycles, dares to call herself their mother, if only in the most general way possible.

They leave with her a monome, and she plays it to pass the lonely sleep-cycles.

And then Rinzler arrived.

Since that first cycle when Clu arrived, the Occupation had been a permanent fixture at the rezzing center. Flynn had warned her of this. They watched her while she recalled code to make sure she wasn't building an army and inspected the code of the new programs to make sure they hadn't been duped. Occasionally, much to her fury, they took some of the newly rezzed programs to be repurposed, though that had only happened twice before she threatened to destroy the center. Even Clu knew that the center was important to replace the programs destroyed in the games, so he was careful to concede to her when she made demands. She, in turn, realized her precarious position in all this and avoided pushing her luck.

But the cycle Rinzler arrived, she attempted to greet him like she did every other program. He was quiet and reserved, and she attempted to get him to be part of the group that had formed at the rezzing center.

But the more she reaches out, the more he pushes her away, and her frustration grows at having someone who will not fit into the companionable atmosphere of the rezzing center (because, yes, even the Guards have become part of their group, and Yori knows each of them as well as her Sirens). She attempts to talk to the regular Guards about him, but they seem more puzzled by his being there than they should, and one work-cycle, she finally confronts him.

"If you can't be a part of us, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," she says, putting her foot down. The program seems surprised, takes a step back, and there's something so familiar about the movement that she has to look away, blink to clear her vision.

He is quiet for a moment, and then she hears his helmet retracting, and she hates herself for the micro it takes her to realize what she is looking at before she screams and is running her hands over his face, squeezing his shoulders, touching his circuits, just to make sure that what she is seeing is real.

"Tron!" she cries, and wraps her arms around him, holding him close. The scar on his face is horrendous, but it's Tron and he is alive and she is no longer alone.

"Yori," he whispers back, and it's so pleading, so quiet and unlike him that she cries. She leads him to her room, her sanctuary, unique and too much like Encom Grid for the Sirens to be comfortable, but enough like the place she and Tron came from that they can relax. She coaxes the story of how he survived out of him, and thanks her User that help came for her bundled program in the form of Cyrus. Tron promises that the two will meet, and Yori wraps him in her arms and holds him for nearly a millicycle, feeling the energy thrumming under her hands, the solid and heavy body that meant her beloved was alive.

He can't stay, and it kills her, but she lets him go, and he comes back often as Rinzler, staying hidden from Clu and the Guards. She never meets Cyrus, and one cycle, Rinzler simply does not come back, and she doesn't see Tron for many cycles.

The loneliness that consumes her afterwards is overwhelming, but she learns to function despite it.

One work-cycle, a handful of programs show up at the center and Yori is stunned to discover that a couple are ISOs. Ada and Cylex are quiet, and it's only because Yori has known ISOs that she figures it out. She shelters them for a little while, before confirming that they are ISOs. Once she is sure, she risks everything, and contacts Flynn.

Quorra shows up, awake and alive and burning with the need to help, and when she sees Ada and Cylex, she hugs them tightly to her with a hint of desperation, and Yori quickly urges them to leave. She is fond of the Guards that live at the center, but they will do what they were programmed to do, and she cannot risk any ISOs dying here. Cylex, though, seems to want to try to live like a normal program instead of running to the Outlands like the Bostrumites or Flynn, and Ada will follow him. Quorra worries, but his plan seems to be solid, and they set out for an un-Occupied city named Lithium.

Yori worries about Flynn and worries about the ISOs but it's all out of her hands, and she can do little except make sure the Grid does not die because her programs are dying under Clu's reign.

It has been a long work-cycle. The medics and mechanics that Yori is rezzing up are still growing and forming within the rezzing chambers, which lay flat against the ground until the programs are ready to emerge. She and the Sirens sometimes use the surface of the closed chambers to place datapads, or as Yori is doing today, to place her monome, as she plays a few discordant tunes. She has gotten better, and since Flynn left her here, she has learned more than she thought possible. She is nearly as good as Sarah when it comes to medical care, and using her memories of Tron, she trains to fight. Just in case.

Her music, though, is something new that she is learning, and soon she will move on to learn other things.

One of the Sirens interrupts her, "Yori, one of the mechanics has a glitch in it's code."

Yori frowns, leaves her monome playing on top of the rezzing program, and hurries over to see what is wrong with her mechanic. His code is displayed over his pod, and she reads through it carefully, trying to distinguish the glitch, see what is wrong.

It doesn't take her long to realize that this mechanic has a dual purpose. She can't help the frown that spreads across her face, because perhaps Flynn made the center, but these are her programs, and she doesn't like him tampering without her knowledge. But it means that Flynn is alive, and he's figuring out ways to use the Grid without Clu noticing.

At least she hopes that Clu doesn't notice, because she couldn't bear to see any of her programs derezzed.

An alarm interrupts her worrying (and the mental scrambling for a back-up plan just in case Clu does notice and she has to find a way to save her mechanic), and she follows the blaring red circuit on the floor that leads her back to the rezzing pod she had been resting against earlier, which has opened of it's own accord, Yori's monome strewn across the floor along with the not fully formed program that has pulled itself out of the pod.

This has happened before. Yori has always made sure that the program made its way back into the rezzing chamber and finished their forming, but this program isn't a glowing, program-shaped mass of glowing voxels like the others. It looks fully formed, if small for a program.

_Like a User 'child', _Yori thinks, remembering Sam in Flynn's pictures and memories, _but taller._

The new program is laying on the floor, and her small hand reaches out for the monome laying next to her, tapping the key. A burst of music, discordant and loud, erupts from the monome, and the program pulls away, amber eyes wide. Yori decides that she seems formed enough to live outside the chamber, and bends down to take the new program's hands in her own, helping the little medic to her feet.

"Welcome to the Grid, program," Yori says, a hint of affection in her voice as the program stumbles on her feet, falling forward into Yori's arms.

She names the little program Paige. By the time the rest of the medics are ready to emerge, Paige has already grasped the basics of her programming and follows Sarah around like a bit, Yori's monome finding a new home in her hands. She grows fast enough, nearly full size by the time the mechanics emerge, and she, like Sarah, is there when they emerge.

Yori is careful to be the one to help the program that Flynn has tampered with, and she is surprised, because the new program looks a little like Tron, and she wonders what Flynn has done to the mechanic's code. He is broad shouldered and strong in ways that the other mechanics he rezzed up with – whom she names Mara, Zed, Bohdi, Dash, Link and Copper – are not, and he seems to be quicker, seems to pick up on things he shouldn't. He sees her training one sleep-cycle, and when she turns around, he's doing the same movement she was, eager to learn from her.

She tries at first, to dissuade him, to encourage him to follow his programming, but he is a lot like her in that sense; he wants to learn, wants to grow past his programming and do more. Paige is like that in shades; while the medic wants to learn music, she's also happy to learn her own programming. Yori cannot do anything to dissuade either program, and she worries. While he fits in to the group of mechanics without a problem, she worries.

Worries enough that she goes with them when they are transported to Argon, where a friend from the Encom Grid takes care of the new programs. She's chosen Argon both because it is un-Occupied, and because of Able. Able seems a little miffed that Yori knows where he is, but other than that, he's glad to hear from her. She is glad to see him as well, and knows that her dual purpose program, Beck, will be safe here. She leaves with a final ruffle to Beck's hair (wild and standing upwards just like Tron's in the old system) and an affectionate hug to timid Link and brilliantly brave Mara.

By the time she comes back to her center, Paige and the rest of the medics have been transported to Gallium, and Yori's monome is suspiciously absent.

Not long after, Quorra shows up at the center again, and Yori is stunned to hear of the massacre enacted upon the medics in Gallium. As Quorra's story unfolds, fury erupts within her at the knowledge that Clu's army had done this. The rezzing center stopped producing programs for a handful of cycles, as Yori couldn't bear the thought of her programs dying. Each and everyone of them had been cared for and raised by her, each and everyone of them were hers in a way that she could not explain. She was theirs and they were hers. Each and every one are a part of her, and she cannot abide their deaths.

Clu stops by then, taking in the unmoving machinery, the empty rezzing chambers and quiet Sirens. He runs a finger over the control console that Yori dominates, and a quiet smile graces his expression.

Yori is furious, and resumes operations within a couple work-cycles. Clu has been here before, trying to convince her to make soldiers for him – she refused, using the excuse that she had no soldier templates, and to try and enter another program's programming would cause the center to go into lockdown and stop all operations. He argued that the programs could be reprogrammed in the rezzing chambers.

Yori knows that if she gives up, she will be giving Clu the space to take over the rezzing center and turn it, like every other thing Flynn has done in the last few cycles, against the cause that they are trying to keep alive. The Guards that live at the center avoid her as much as possible for a while, before she calms down again.

Yori can only make a handful of programs at a time, ten, twenty, thirty. So it seems that no matter how many she makes, she can never keep up with the death toll. When Argon is Occupied, Yori weeps at the amount of programs that die in the new Games and while she wants to replenish what has been taken, she doesn't send any new programs to Argon.

She hopes and prays to her User that her Beck will be okay. But life goes on, and she can't do anything. Flynn has protected her, but he's also locked her in place, under Clu's microscope, and she has to be unbearably careful.

So she is surprised when Paige visits her one cycle, her medic green replaced by the harsh red of the Occupation. Paige is tired, and there's a haunted look to her, and Yori cannot help but wrap the program in her arms and hold her close. The little program has grown, and she is tall. Her hair is short and her wounds are deep, emotional.

"Why are you with the Occupation?" Yori asks, before she can stop herself, but Paige just hums and shakes her head.

"I don't want to talk about that right now."

And that was that. Paige sits on the stairs of the grand center, her black suit contrasting sharply against the white, the echoing remnants of the ISOs proud Arjia. It has been a long time since Yori has thought of Arjia as it was. She sits with Paige, her hand on the younger program's back as the story begins to unfold.

Paige is a soldier now. Yori wonders sometimes, how programs can learn to surpass their programming so easily lately. She can't help the surge of bittersweet pride that fills her when Paige tells her that she's a commander, and it is all she can do to hide the surprise that fills her when Paige then tells her about her encounter with Beck.

_He must have figured out his other purpose, _Yori thinks after hearing what he did on the train, _or maybe he's simply learned these things on his own._

She doesn't know, and it irks her, but maybe it is time to visit Beck, see how he is doing.

"He was sweet," Paige says, and Yori thinks to a time when she thought the same of Tron. A knowing smile crosses her face, but she lets Paige's story be told, and by the end, Paige looks so lonely and conflicted that Yori hugs her again. She understands why Paige has let Beck go, but she also knows what it is to be alone. What it is to be left behind.

Paige doesn't stay long. She's too busy, too wrapped up in her new job, but she promises to visit. Yori has been around the Grid long enough to know that she won't, not for a good long time, but as the medic program is leaving, Yori spots a familiar head between the small group of visitors. She watches with amusement as the young program calls out for Paige, and as the two meet, she takes in their body language.

Paige has closed off, her stance code-perfect soldier straight, her face an imperceptible mask. Beck is soft, his stance is nonthreatening, and his face is open. He is speaking in such low tones that Yori cannot make it out, and when Paige turns to leave, she steps down from the center and intervenes.

"Paige, Beck!" the wide-eyed look Beck fixates upon Yori makes her smile as she beckons them towards her. The two young programs come to her, and Yori reaches _up _to wrap Beck in a hug. He has grown since she last saw him.

"Yori," he says, voice full of reverence and care, eyes ducked bashfully. He didn't know her as personally as Paige, but it's evident that he thinks greatly of her. "You remember me?"

"I remember all of you," she says, and she does. Every program that she's rezzed, she has named and cared for. Mother, Flynn said she would become. Perhaps she _should_ take the title.

"But you in particular gave me trouble," she taps his nose, "Always wanting to learn things not in your programming. What's an old program to do with you? What are you now? A medic, an engineer?"

Beck grins at her, glancing for a moment at Paige, "Yeah, well, not so much anymore. I'm just a mechanic at Able's. Zed's more the engineer."

"He was always a smart one," Yori loops her arms through both his and Paige's. Paige looks distinctly uncomfortable, but Beck takes it in stride as she leads them into the center. "I get lonely sometimes at the center. Would you two humor an old program and stay a while?"

Paige nods slowly, and Beck agrees after her. Yori smiles at the two and guides them through the center. Paige remembers more of the place, can point out the room she lived in during her time at the center and even relaxes enough to greet and talk with the medic programs that Yori rezzed up a couple of work-cycles ago, whom are still figuring out their programming and getting comfortable in their bodies and suits. Beck watches her wistfully.

"So, are you two bundled or something?" Yori asks him while Paige is distracted. Beck gives her a wide-eyed look and stammers.

"Wh-what? No, I just met her a couple of cycles ago."

"Cycles? That's a long time to know a program."

"Work-cycles, sorry," he blushes, "In Argon we just call them cycles. We say full-cycle for the actual 'cycle'."

"Really? How confusing."

He chuckles bashfully, "And I guess if I'm being technical, I met her a couple deca-cycles ago."

"I see," Yori crosses her arms over her chest, her ISO adopted robes fluttering lightly over her suit, "Beck...I've been around a long time. I've met, loved and lost my bundled program. Losing him was...hard. But I would never trade the time I had with him. It has been worth it, every time."

The younger program crosses his arms over his chest, frowning at her, "I'm sorry. But why are you telling me?"

"Because I know you, and I know Paige. And whatever is happening between you two...if it's worth fighting for, then fight for it," Yori places a hand over his broad back, "And if it's not, then I'm sorry I bothered you. I just... I know what it's like to be alone."

Beck looks down at the ground, and she sees, suddenly, an immense weight on his shoulders, a loneliness that reminds her of Tron, as so much of this younger program often does. He's tired and he's lonely, and she knows she's hit a sensitive spot with him. She traces a hand up his cheek and cradles the side of his face in apology, and he hums quietly, eyes fluttering shut at the affection.

And suddenly, Paige is there, and there's this look in her eyes that is dangerous, and nearly makes Yori laugh when it's directed at both her and Beck, but Paige does nothing besides give the two scathing looks. Beck seems surprised by her anger, and Yori simply smiles at the two, done with her meddling. If the two have something (which she is sure they do) they will have to figure it out on their own. Much like she and Tron did, once upon a time.

And for a moment, she thinks, she sees Tron in the Outlands that surround the Rezzing Center, and for a moment, she doesn't feel so alone.

**So this got way longer than I thought it would. XD I told you guys that these would be AUs. Also, have my messy explanation for time-keeping on the Grid! The way I perceive/use it, anyway.  
**

**Cycle: 8,000 hours, technically speaking, but colloquially cycle means a Work/Sleep cycle combo, aka, like a full, 24 hour day, only for programs, it's two millicycles so about 16 hours instead of 24. When Argon programs want to say the 8,000 hour cycle, they say 'full-cycle', which is basically a year.**

**Work/Sleep-Cycle: Work-cycle is essentially the program equivalent of human daylight hours, while sleep-cycle is essentially nighttime hours. Curfew is enforced during the sleep-cycle portion of a cycle. Work/Sleep-cycles are the same amount of perceived human time as a Millicycle.**

**DecaCycle: A period of ten Cycles, kind of like a week.**

**Microcycle: A tiny portion of time, about 90 seconds. Usually shortened to 'micro'**

**Millicycle: A period of time roughly equivalent to eight human hours of perceived time on the Grid, as explained in Tron Legacy**

**I tried to keep these simple, using easy to understand terms like 'Work/Sleep-cycles' which is pretty straightforward, but then I needed a term for a week and I figured I could get a little fancy. X) Micros and Millicycles are simple and easy enough to remember, I hope.**

**I needed my own system, because for me the fanmade one, this one:**

_I had a discussion with several fellow Authors and Tron Fans on and agreed on an organized fashion to keep track of time on the Grid._  
_If you like this way to keep track of time, copy and paste it on your profile page._  
_TRON LIVES!_

_Cycle = 24 hours_

_NanoCycle = 1 second_

_MicroCycle = 1 minute_

_PectroCycle = 1 hour_

_MilliCycle = 8 hours_

_MylaCycle = 1 week_

_HiloCycle = 1 month_

_XilaCycle = 1 year_

_DecaCycle = 1 decade_

_HectoCycle = 1 Century_

_KiloCycle = 1 millennium_

**Just wasn't working for me. I like it, it's not that I don't, I just can't remember all those 'Myla/Xila/Pectro' words. Decacycle makes sense to me because it's Deca, which means ten and I can remember that. It actually makes more sense for it to mean decade, but I'm a dork so it means the program equivalent to a week in my stories. XD Anyway, I have seen the word 'cycle' so much in the last hour that I'm actually struggling to even see it as a word anymore so I'm signing off. ^^ Hope you enjoyed, even if it wasn't so much RenePaige as me indulging a headcanon. There's actually an alternate version of this where Beck is Yori's actual son, but I edited that whole part out...**


End file.
